


Cocoon

by Blackghost7



Category: NCIS
Genre: M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:21:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5855677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackghost7/pseuds/Blackghost7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I should be angry. I was.</p>
<p>No, I wasn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cocoon

I awoke at the first sound. At least, I'd like to think I did. If it hadn't been the first sound, I would've woken up sooner, right? I glanced over in the dim light of the electric alarm clock and the slivers of moonlight permeating the only half closed drapes, and watched his face as he burrowed deeper into the pillows. Bastard had stolen half of my covers again. At least. No wonder I woke up. I was cold, and cranky, and he was making noise.

It was a cute noise. Little snuffles and soft snores as he lay there on his stomach, his face nestled into the soft fabric of the pillows, the covers - my covers - wrapped around him like a cocoon, snuggling endearingly as he tried to breathe freely, made impossible by the way his face was half buried into the bedding. No, wait, it wasn't cute. It was annoying. And noisy. It woke me up. It wasn't endearing, it was downright frustrating. I should be angry. I was.

No, I wasn't.

I sighed softly as I carefully turned and reached down to the bottom of the bedside cabinet on my side of the bed, where I kept the old, comfortable, soft and warm quilt. As I unfolded it and stretched it out over the part of the sheet he'd left me, and covered my body with it, I froze for a second. My side of the bed? Since when did I have a side of the bed, of this bed, again? I chuckled and frowned at the same time as I settled back down, neatly covered in warm quilt now. It had happened suddenly. Or gradually. Depends on how you look at it. 

He'd shifted and squirmed and finally grumbled.

"I'm not sleeping here on the damned couch."

He'd gotten up and grabbed my hand with one of his own and the blankets and pillow I kept there with the other, and pulled me almost forcibly towards the stairs. He felt my brief hesitation, but then in his head-strong way had simply tugged at my hand again with a pleading look in his eyes. I'd let myself be pulled along. The bedroom may not have been used very often over the last few years, but I kept it clean and aired and the bed made with fresh sheets. He eased me into the room and onto the bed after having pulled the sheets and blankets down and dropping the pillow and blankets from the couch that he'd held in his other hand. 

As I sat there on the edge - literally and figuratively - he'd burrowed down, burying his face into the pillows. I just stared at him in the semi-darkness, unsure what to do, unable to move. It could have been seconds or long minutes later when he snuffed discontentedly, and raised his head from the pillow. 

"This won't do."

Pushing the pillow away to the other side of the bed, he'd grabbed the one he'd brought from downstairs, and tucked it underneath his face.

"Better. But not good. You need to buy new pillows, and soon. Not down. I don't like down. And I want a duvet, not blankets. I get cold at night."

As I watched him make himself comfortable, thoughts and emotions were warring within me, and that continued for a long time even after he'd reached out, pulled me down to rest beside him, and gave his last order with a sleepy voice.

"Sleep, Jethro. Worry tomorrow."

And then the soft snuffles and snores started. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kiss him. I had no fucking clue what exactly I wanted, but I couldn't make myself leave.

Two days later, I was standing in the check-out line in one of those stores I abhorred, my wallet already hurting from the idea of the cost of the items I had clutched in my grasp. Pillows, no down. Duvet, no down. Sheets, high thread count. I sighed as I handed over my credit card to the girl behind the counter, and she winced at me in sympathy. Or at least, I like to think that she did.

It was all worth it when, a long sixteen hours later, I saw his eyes fire up in delight as he took in the new bedding when he'd once again dragged my up to my own bedroom. He snuggled deeply into the duvet, buried his face into the pillows, and sighed with pleasure.

Thirty minutes later, I discovered he wasn't kidding about getting cold at night. His feet were like clumps of ice, and he had no qualms in warming them against my calves. I startled, and was about to start yelling at him, but then I saw his sleep-relaxed, contented face, and bit my tongue. I sighed.

Another couple of minutes later, he rolled himself into the duvet, effectively robbing my of my covers. I learned that night that the quilt should always be close at hand. 

In the early morning, I woke up feeling sweaty and scorched. The confusion and worry that I was coming down with something lasted only few seconds, then I registered the arms curled around me and the hot breath on the back of my neck. I shivered, but definitely not from cold.

"Hey."

His voice was soft and gravelly, still in the throws of sleep.

"Hey back."

I managed to croak, before his tongue started drawing intricate figures on my neck, causing yet more shivers that wracked my body. His arms tightened around me, and I felt his lips smile against my skin. I was not only covered in the old, worn quilt and his body, but in the duvet as well, and all of it combined had caused a heat in me that I had never experienced before. He continued sleepily for a few moments, then seemed to come awake and pulled at me to turn me onto my back. As he settled on top of me, he smiled a predatory smile.

"I'm gonna ravish you now."

I tried to grin back up at him, but undoubtedly failed. 

"Good."

I nearly squeaked out my answer, but I didn't care, because those lips were descending onto mine, locking us together in a cocoon of heat and passion. His hands sliding over my chest and sides raised a fire in me even hotter than the covers could ever provide. His tongue tangled with mine, tasting me and owning me, delving in and claiming every part of my soul. When he started moving down my body and took the covers with him, the crisp air of the cold winter bedroom almost felt like relief on my overheated skin. But then he lowered his mouth onto me, licked and tasted and teased, and I lost the ability to do anything but tangle my fingers into his hair and thrust up my hips. He hummed in pleasure and tightened around me, his nimble fingers teasing my skin, his tongue and mouth a safe place to lose myself into. I let go.

He was grinning when his face finally reached mine again, and plastered his lips over mine. 

"I love you, you know."

His words were soft and interspersed with tiny kisses, and I guess we both ignored the fact that they nearly gave me a heart attack, because after it had stopped for a moment, my heart started pounding again with a ferocity that would have doctors severely worried. 

"I love you too."

He raised his head to look me in the eyes, and then the most beatific smile took over his beloved features.

"Thank you."

It was an odd response, but then, when had he ever been predictable? But I realized where it came from, and my heart stuttered again in sorrow and longing. I reached up my hand and brushed it through his hair softly.

"I always did, you know."

After staring down at me for another few long moments, he nodded sincerely and gave me another kiss. Then he deliberately turned his soft smile into a leer.

"Yeah? Wanna help me with this, then?"

And he thrust his hips against mine to remind me of unfinished business.

I didn't fall for the bait. Well, I did, but not in the way he'd intended. I caressed the side of his face and, looking up at him with all the love I had for him, replied in a serious tone.

"It will be my pleasure and my honor."

It's not often I get to render him speechless unless with an order, and even then he still grumbles a rebuttal under his breath. So I savored this one, savor it still. And then I set about to prove to him the truth of my words. 

My fingers and tongue and mouth, while still relatively new to his body, instinctively knew where to go for maximum effect. And by that I don't mean getting him off quick and hard, but lingering, teasing, playing, loving. The memory of his soft gasps and moans, his breathy little pants, his quiet pleas are all I need to keep me warm in the nights he inevitably steals the covers. Well, those and the quilt I keep close at hand these days.

He was on the verge of desperation when I decided I'd made my point, and his legs had been spread invitingly almost since I'd started. I never pretended to be anything other than human, and not the very best one at that, so it was an invitation that at that point, I could no longer decline. He smiled softly and lovingly as I at last took him up on the invite and slowly entered my beautiful special agent. His fingers brushed almost reverently through my hair as he stared up at me, his eyes open and loving, and showing his soul. You could have knocked me over with a feather from the depth of feeling and longing I saw there. 

He broke my world into little pieces and put it back together again with a small, contented sigh.

Damn, I loved this man.

That was months ago, and his sleeping habits haven't changed. He steals the covers, he freezes me with his icy cold feet, and warms my heart with his tiny, sleepy smiles and snuffles into the pillows. I know by now that after half an hour, he'll curl into a cocoon of duvet, and in the morning, he'll curl around me. He always finds me, and wraps himself around me, and it's the best feeling I never thought I'd know.

And now he's leaving.

"We'll still do this, right? You'll still love me?"

I settle my body against his back a little closer, and wrap my arms a little tighter around his. I breathe out softly against the back of his neck, feeling the shivers run through his body as he feels it.

"No matter what happens, no matter where you are, you'll always be mine, Anthony."


End file.
